The Beautiful Butterfly

A poem about over coming demons, realizing the beauty within ones self, and a shared love between two people. I drew inspiration from my relationship.

A boy, feeling as though he is constrained.

Feeling as if he is bound, unable to move.

Not able to escape the cocoon in which envelopes him in a saddening blackness.

The cocoon which society built around him, with harsh words and actions, only to be reinforced by the already dark thoughts that echo through his head.

The bars of his of his prison cell made with the strong metal of hatred.

The cocoon which holds him, the poor caterpillar, feels unbreakable.

It’s as though true freedom isn’t meant for all.

So, he waits. Continuing to exist, but is he really alive?

The caterpillar sits in the cocoon, wishing for his liberation.

He wishes for the moment when the walls of his prison start to crack and break.

For he knows, when he escapes, he will emerge, new and refreshed.

He knows he will emerge from the cocoon, with brilliant wings.

He will fly, showing his true colors and all the glory they possess.

He knows at the end of his troubles, when he is victorious and the raging sea of life is still, he will emerge as the beautiful butterfly which he so desperately yearns to be.

But, he is confused.

He makes a mistake, not realizing how beautiful he already is.  

His yearning for the future causes him to overlook and deny all the obvious

beauty he possesses now.

He doesn’t realize that he is…

That he always was…

And that he always will be the beautiful butterfly.

He doesn’t realize that he already has the beautiful wings that he ever so desires.

He doesn’t realize that from the moment he was born, he was the personification of perfection.

He contains beauty of which he is blind too, but I am not.

I see all the colors of this butterfly. Flooding me with a rainbow of emotion.

I see all the colors that he himself and others are unable too. I see what their eyes and brains refuse too.

I have always seen beauty in him.

His colors shine with such brilliance that I find myself mesmerized by the absolute grace.

Others go out and try to catch their own butterflies, but this butterfly snared me.

Luring me in with a dazzling display of majesty and compassion, almost as if nature itself is  offering me love, in its purest form.

While I, the Wind, and he, the butterfly, may seem to move separately, this could not be further from the truth.

While appearing to move apart from each other, we actually move as one.

Love brings us together, causing the merging of  two souls. Allowing us to become absorbed in each other, allowing us to feel.

All he must do is spread his wings, and I will be the wind in which carries him to his destination.

I, the Wind, will support the butterfly is his time of tribulation. Especially during the times when he is tired, when he can not flap his wings. I will be the breeze on which he can rest.

I, the Wind, will expose the butterfly to his own colors, allowing him to see his true beauty.

Author's Note

Ignoring grammar problems, what do you think? Just looking for some comments.